


Potions

by ZukkaFireTrash



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZukkaFireTrash/pseuds/ZukkaFireTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighth Year AU: "We’re lab partners because our normal partners were sick, and I’m usually one of the first persons to leave. But now we’ve been here for hours, and you’re still fucking everything up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potions

“For God's sake, Potter, we’re bloody _eighth years_ why the hell is this so bloody hard for you!?” Harry leapt away from the cauldron, scowling in annoyance at the blonde haired git shouted angrily at him.

“Don’t yell at me, Malfoy!” He yelled, smirking slightly at the low groan that left Malfoy’s throat as he inspected the potion. It was supposed to be a frothy lilac colour, not green, gooey and oozing like a hexed boil, Draco tentatively smelt the ugly-looking brew and recoiled in disgust at the foul smell, nose scrunching, this was _not_ Amortentia. With an irritated sigh he tipped their eleventh redo down the sink, rolling up his sleeves and scrubbing angrily at the pot, before rinsing it out and shoving it back down on the desk with a loud _dong!_

The blonde pointedly glared at Potter as he dried away the dampness with a cloth and began their twelfth attempt at Amortentia draught, “This time, _Potter,”_ He spat vehemently, “don’t do or touch _anything_ without my strict instructions.”

“Yes, of _course_ professor Malfoy!” Draco ignored the Boy Wonder’s childish qualms with a dignified sniff and carried on with what he’d been doing, regarding with a smirk, that Potter had sat down and was now pouting. _Immature moron,_ He thought, carefully adding a bat’s wing to the thickening paste in the bottom of the cauldron.

It was their eighth year at Hogwarts, and due to the influx of new arrivals at the start of term, the West Tower had been converted into a large dormitory for the students coming back to retake their NEWT exams. Of course Potter and his friends - the ones that had survived the war - had arrived, even Granger, which was strange for Draco was fairly certain that she had passed _all_ of her exams with at least an _E._ He of course had failed, barely scraping _P_ ’s except for in Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology - which in both he’d received _F_ ’s. So there he was, in an Extra Potions class on a dreary Saturday morning with bloody Potter of all people, he blamed Blaise and Pansy, but not Goyle - he hadn’t come back for his last year, instead he’d gone to Romania to study Dragons, in his last letter (which was really just a few scribbled words and a load of annotated pictures) he’d briefly said that he’d met Charlie Weasley. So yes, he blamed bloody Pansy and Blaise for this mishap. Pansy, for not taking potions, and Blaise - that bloody _git_ \- for having the sheer audacity to be ill on the same day as Potter’s partner, Longbottom.

With a drawn sigh the blonde lazily circled his wand around the cauldron three times to the left and once to the right, as the instructions told him, impassively glancing over at Granger and Weasley at their station. He bit back a laugh as Weasley - the bumbling idiot - dropped his elbow into the mixture and began flailing about girlishly, freezing instantly at the icy glare Granger shot him. Draco’s lip quirked slightly, now that he’d given it some thought, the bushy-haired girl would’ve been a half bad Slytherin with a glare like that.

“Are we done yet, Malfoy? I’d quite like to eat sometime today.” Draco shrieked, jumping back at the closeness of Potter’s voice and slapping a hand onto the back of his neck where chills rolled down his spine. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the blonde had accidentally backed into the pot, turning ridged as it tumbled and bounced onto the floor with an ominous _clang!_

Heads turned and the entire room seemed to silence as Draco’s rage exploded like a boiling kettle, “God fucking _damn it,_ Potter!” He roared, his usually pale face, screwed up and pink with rage. His hair was slightly dishevelled and his robes were askew, but none of that mattered as he yanked Potter by the shirt, switching their positions to slam him against the desk, “I’m usually the _first one_ out of this bloody class, but we’ve been here for _hours_ and you’re _still_ fucking everything up!”

The dark-haired boy’s expression of shock quickly contorted into one of savage fury as he shoved back on Malfoy, green eyes narrowed behind the frames of his glasses, _“I’m_ fucking everything up? That’s rich, I didn’t think it was me who threw that last one on the floor!”

The blonde’s hands captured Potter’s arms, pinning them to his sides as he sneered back, “I wouldn’t have dropped it if you hadn’t been breathing down my neck.”

“Well I wouldn’t have done that if you’d been paying attention!”

“It wasn’t my fault that your bloody Weasel was making a racket!” Neither of them noticed Professor Slughorn nervously flitting about, nor did they pay any heed to their fellow classmates.

“Don’t you dare insult my friend!” Harry spat, nose scrunching as he wrenched his arms from Malfoy’s grip.

“I don’t need to, he’s that much of an idiot that he does it himself. I feel sorry for Granger, she has to deal with a bumbling freckly baboon for a boyfriend!”

“You-! You- Oh you’re so bloody egotistical and arrogant and repressed!” Harry growled, they were so close now that their noses were practically touching. So close that Malfoy’s heated puffs of breath were fogging up Harry’s glasses. So close that Draco could essentially count the colours in Potter’s eyes.

“Repressed? _Repressed?_ I’ll show you repressed!” He ground out, yanking sharply on Potters hair as he dug his long nails into the other boy’s scalp. Harry gave a small hiss as he yanked the blond’s hand from his hair.

“You fight like a bloody _girl,_ Malfoy.”

“Shut the hell up, Potter.” Draco breathed, their gazes clashing heatedly.

There was a silence, everyone waited for what was to happen next, _“Make me.”_ Harry dared.

Then, soft, thin lips silenced him, his glasses fogged up so much that he couldn’t even see, but he barely registered that as his eyes drifted shut. There was a collective gasp that neither of them heard, both far too engrossed in what they were doing. They kissed like they fought, relentless, passionate, single-minded, only focused on one goal, as if it were a game of cat and mouse. If Harry pushed forwards, Draco would push back, but Harry would not give up without a struggle, he drove against the Slytherin, forcing him to stumble back. Draco hoisted him half up onto the desk so he was perched slightly on the edge, toes still touching the ground. Harry smirked slightly when Draco’s lips opened with a gasp - various elixir ingredients crushing under the blonde’s palms as his long fingers clenched around the edge of the table, however as soon as Harry’s tongue swiped at his bottom lip, he was lost and craving for more. His hand shot out, head twisting and teeth clashing as he jerked fiercely on the Gryffindor’s tie.

At some point Pansy walked in to see where Draco was (he was usually out within half an hour of Extra Potions and she was not worried Blaise was just getting on her tether) froze, eyes wide and jaw dropped, then rushed over to Hermione, who was still working on her own potion (the two girls were becoming fast friends thanks to Ginny Weasley, who was in Pansy’s Arithmancy class and despite what Draco says, no she did _not_ have a crush on the Weaselette… maybe...) and instantly asked what was going on. Of course, that’s when Ron decided to shake from his frozen state of shock and give a rather strangled-sounding screech.

Then, Harry moaned.

It wasn’t particularly deep and guttural, but it was loud enough for those listening to hear and certainly enough to drive Draco insane, because without a second’s thought both of the Slytherin’s hands were threaded into Harry’s hair and tugging.

And _oh!_ did the tugging feel good!

But Harry was beginning to feel lightheaded (whether that was because of the lack of oxygen or the fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck, he wasn’t sure, but neither did he really care) so with a deep, chest racking pant he pulled back, eyes fluttering open.

He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gazed at Draco over the rim of his fogged up glasses. He vaguely wondered when he’d started calling him Draco in his thoughts, but ultimately, in the haze of the moment, he didn’t really give a damn.

“So, Potter,” An amused smirk played on Draco’s lips, carefully he masked the tremble in his voice, “got a crush?”

“I could ask you the same question, Malfoy.”

“Bloody hell, _stop it!”_ Ron suddenly screeched, face beet red and grimace set on his face.

Hermione scowled slightly, dragging her eyes away from her brewing, “Oh, grow up, Ronald.”

“I don’t think you understand Hermione, it’s _Malfoy.”_

“Well done, Ronald.” Draco sneered, “I have a last name, do you want a medal?”

The ginger haired teen glared at the blonde, muttering something along the lines of ‘no I want you to stop bloody feeling up Harry in my presence’ of course everyone just ignored him.

“I _so_ called it, not even two weeks ago.” Seamus’ thick irish accent bellowed as he linked arms with his own boyfriend, “Right, Dean?”

“Whatever, Shay.” The dark skinned boy simply rolled his eyes and turned back to their station.

“Well… that was certainly… eventful…” The professor muttered vaguely, giving a barked laugh before turning to his desk, “Yes, well… Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, maybe you should take the day off to sort out your… differences.”

Draco grinned almost evilly and slithered down from the desk, eyes glinting as he tugged on Harry’s tie, “Quite, Professor.” He smirked, “Come, Potter, I believe we have some differences to sort out.”

Harry stumbled forwards, following after Draco rather like a lost puppy, “Sure,” He mumbled sarcastically, “you want to sort out ‘differences’.”

Not long after, Harry discovered that the Room of Requirement was, infact, still completely functional. **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This was my first Draco/Harry fic and I hope you all liked it!


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